


guard down

by minyardandrew



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Homophobic Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:45:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7770586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minyardandrew/pseuds/minyardandrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> “Hey, you’re that exy player aren’t you?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>The question comes from behind him, and Neil freezes. He cut through the baseball field on campus to get to his next lecture easier, a route that isolated him and one he wouldn’t have taken a couple of months ago, but Neil let his guard down.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>He let his guard down.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>He can tell by the tone of voice that he made a mistake. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	guard down

**Author's Note:**

> this is a collab with sur, who made an edit to go with it which you can find [here](http://hemmicknicky.tumblr.com/post/147963446016/written-by-francis-edit-by-sur-hey-youre-that)

“Hey, you’re that exy player aren’t you?”

The question comes from behind him, and Neil freezes. He cut through the baseball field on campus to get to his next lecture easier, a route that isolated him and one he wouldn’t have taken a couple of months ago, but Neil let his guard down.

He let his guard down.

He can tell by the tone of voice that he made a mistake.

He turns around, with a small smile on his lips and says “Which one? There are a lot of them, the last time I checked.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” the other guy grunts. He is at least six feet tall. Neil curses internally. “Oh, sorry. You’re that fag exy player aren’t you?” the brute tries again. “I should have clarified that part.”

Neil’s mind whirls at this. Who knows about him and Andrew? Fuck. What the fuck.

They aren’t exactly subtle, but they weren’t public knowledge either. They aren’t particularly ready to be openly gay professional athletes, and were praying to fly under the radar for as long as they could.

Neil was too busy running through all of the times Andrew and he had been affectionate in public to respond, so he just stuck out his chin and held his ground.

“I’m Fred Mitchell. I play football.”

Neil just quirked an eyebrow as if this explained this conversation any further.

“I don’t know if anyone explained this to you when you moved in,” he starts, stepping closer to Neil. Neil wants to take a step back in retaliation but tells himself it’s not a good idea. “Each Palmetto team gets a floor. Exy get’s third floor. Football gets the fourth floor. The top floor. And you know what is above the top floor? The roof.”

Neil’s stomach drops. He can practically feel the blood draining out of his face.

“Yeah, exactly. You know where this is going. Your face is a little hard to miss, what with the whole–” he stops himself to gesture at the collection of scars and burns along Neil’s face. Neil doesn’t appreciate the compliment.

“So a couple of nights ago when I was going into the stairwell to go downstairs to see my girlfriend, I happened to see you and your little butt-buddy making out against the door to the roof. I don’t know who gave you a key to that, but I don’t think you’re allowed up there. Just saying.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Neil replies in his faux calm voice. He is already tensed for the fight that is about to occur, and is thinking ahead to what to tell Andrew.

“So when I saw you walking across this field here, I thought it’d be best to come and tell you that we don’t like queers here at Palmetto, especially at Fox Tower–”

He doesn’t get any further than that, because Neil’s fist came up and collided with his jaw.

They each got a couple good punches in, and at one point he pushed Neil off balance and they fell in the dust and were fighting on the ground. It couldn’t have lasted more than five minutes, the football player got tired after Neil got in some really good kidney shots. He was strong, but Neil was more skillful at preserving energy and what parts of the body hurts the most.

When they were done, the two of them were laying in the dust breathing heavily, both wary of each other but too exhausted to fight anymore. Neil’s knuckles ached, and he could tell his face must not have looked very good either.

The football player, Fred Mitchell, the guy fucking told Neil his full name for some reason, got up first. He dusted himself off, and left without saying anything.

Neil knew he would be late for his next class even if he left right now, and more than a few heads would turn if he showed up like this. So really, there was no point in moving for a couple more minutes. He laid there, looking up at the sky, embracing the feeling of taut muscles and adrenaline coursing through his veins. It had been awhile since he got in a fight, and he forgot how good it felt to let go and just beat the fucking shit out of someone.

Once his blood cooled and the ache was more painful than exhilarating, he pulled his phone out and called Andrew. He picked up on the second ring.

“Neil.” Neil could almost detect a chord of fear in it. He felt horrible.

“Are you in class? I can’t remember.”

“No, I’m with Bee.”

“I got in a fight.”

“Where are you?”

“Baseball field.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Neil could hear Betsy in the background moving, asking a question, before the line went silent. He said a curse out loud. He shouldn’t have interrupted Andrew’s time with her but it was too late.

Andrew was there in three minutes actually and was across the field in less than one. Neil was still lying in the dust.

“More than one?” he said, voice calm but he was breathing heavy which gave away his concern.

“No just one, Fred Mitchell. Told me his fucking name and everything. What an idiot,” he says, pinching his nose. “Football player. Saw us making out against the door to the roof two days ago,” Neil says, as Andrew helps him to his feet. The blonde then began to brush him down, getting the diamond’s dust off his back and arms but being careful of the bloody knuckles and scrapes along his forearms. He walks Neil over to one of the fences to lean against, his head dropped low and body tense.

“We have to be more careful,” Andrew said, after a moment, voice low. He begins examining Neil’s injuries, starting with his hands, and when his hands come to lightly grasp Neil’s chin Neil kisses him without thinking. Andrew, of course, kisses back, and When Neil goes in a bit more forcefully, Andrew seems more than happy to reciprocate. Neil’s hand goes up to grab Andrew’s neck, pulling him closer.

“Is this us being more careful?” Neil pants, after a second. Andrew shoots him an unimpressed look, and begins to eye the bruising on the left side of Neil’s face with distaste. “He is not a good fighter,”

“No he is not,” Neil agrees. “All force but no skill.”

“Still. We need to be more careful. This cannot happen again.”

Neil nods at this, agreeing that what he did was reckless. What they did was reckless. They just were reckless. They are more vulnerable when they are separated. If this means Andrew will be spending more time around him though, Neil isn’t complaining.

Andrew leans in for a final kiss before grabbing his forearm to walk him to the car.

They walk to the Maserati in silence.


End file.
